Unwrapping Her Italian Doc

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘It will ruin your lingerie career,’ Tara warned, but Louise just laughed.

  ‘I’m sure pregnant women can and do wear fabulously sexy underwear—in fact, my agent’s going to speak to a couple of companies to see what sort of work they might have for me if I get pregnant.’

  ‘Surely you’re missing something if you want a baby …’ Tara said, referring to Louise’s lack of a love life, but now she had told her mum, now she’d told Rory and Emily knew too, Louise had decided it was time to start to let the world know.

  ‘No, I’m not missing anything.’ Louise smiled. ‘In fact, I might have to pay a visit to Anton.’

  She was referring to the fact she’d found out he was a reproductive specialist too and he gave a wry smile at the ease of her double entendre.

  ‘I have an excellent record,’ Anton said.

  ‘So I’ve heard.’ Louise smirked.

  Then Anton stopped the joking around and went to get back to his notes. ‘You don’t need to be rushing. How old are you?’

  ‘Thirty next year!’ Louise sighed.

  ‘Plenty of time. You don’t have to be thinking about it yet,’ Anton said, but it turned out that the ditzy Louise ran deep.

  ‘I think about it a lot,’ she admitted. ‘In all seriousness, Anton,’ she continued, as Tara headed off to do more obs, ‘I’m actually confused by the whole thing. I recently saw my GP but she just told me to come off the Pill for a few months.’

  Anton frowned, fighting the urge to step in while not wanting to get involved with this aspect of Louise, so he was a little brusque in response. ‘The fertility centre at this hospital runs an information night for single women,’ Anton offered. ‘Your questions would be best answered there.’

  ‘I know they do,’ Louise said. ‘I’ve booked in for the next one but it’s not till February. That’s ages away.’

  ‘It will be here before you know it. As I said, there’s no rush.’

  ‘There might be, though,’ Louise said, and told him the truth. ‘A few years ago I found out I’d probably have problems getting pregnant. That’s why I’m off the Pill and trying to sort out my cycle. I know quite a bit but even I’m confused.’

  ‘You need a specialist. Perhaps see an ob/gyn and have him answer your questions, but I would think, from the little you’ve told me, that you would be referred to a fertility specialist. Certainly, if you are considering pregnancy, you need to get some base bloods down and an ultrasound.’

  ‘Can I come and see you?’ Louise was completely serious now. ‘Make an appointment, I mean, and then if I did get pregnant …’

  ‘There is a long wait to see me.’

  ‘Even for colleagues?’ Louise cheekily checked.

  ‘Especially for colleagues,’ Anton said, really not liking the way this conversation was going.

  ‘What about privately?’ Louise asked, and she was serious about that because all her money from modelling was going into her baby fund.

  ‘Louise.’ Anton was even brusquer now. ‘Why would you want to be a single mother?’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not the first thing you ask your patients when they come to see you,’ Louise scolded. ‘I don’t think that’s very PC.’

  ‘But you’re not my patient,’ Anton pointed out, ‘so I don’t have to watch what I say. Why would you want to be a single mother?’

  ‘How do you know I’m not in a relationship?’ Louise said.

  ‘You just told me that you and Rory were only friends.’

  ‘Hah, but I could have an infertile partner at home.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Lorenzo,’ Louise teased, kicking him gently with her foot. ‘And he’s very upset that he can’t give me babies.’

  He knew she was joking, though he refused to smile, and he wanted to capture her foot as she prattled on.

  ‘Or,’ Louise continued, ‘I might be a lesbian in a very happy relationship and we’ve decided that we want to have a baby together.’ She loved how his lips twitched as she continued. ‘I’m the girly one!’

  ‘You’re not a very good lesbian,’ Anton said, ‘given the way that you flirt with me.’

  ‘Ha-ha.’ Louise laughed. ‘Seriously, Anton—’ and she was ‘—about seeing you privately. You’re right, I need to get an ultrasound and some bloods done. I’m going in circles on my own—fertility drugs, artificial insemination or IVF. I’m worried about twins or triplets or even more …’ Louise truly was. ‘I want someone who knows what they are doing.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Anton agreed. ‘If you want, I can recommend someone to you. Richard here is excellent, I can speak with him and give you a referral and get you seen quickly—’ Anton started, but Louise interrupted him.

  ‘Why would I see someone else when we both know you’re the best?’ she pushed. ‘Look, I know we mess around …’

  ‘You mess around,’ Anton corrected.

  ‘Only at work.’

  Louise was serious, Anton realised. She had that look in her eyes that Anton recognised on women who came to his office. It was a look that said she was determined to get pregnant, so he had no real choice now but to be honest.

  No, this conversation wasn’t going well for him at all.

  ‘It would be unethical for me to see you,’ Anton said, and stood.

  ‘Unethical?’ Louise frowned. ‘What, because we work together?’

  ‘Professionally unethical,’ Anton said, and rolled his eyes as a delighted smile spread across her face. ‘I can’t say it any clearer than that.’

  Ooooh!

  She hugged the baby as Anton walked off.

  ‘He has got the hots for me,’ Louise whispered to the baby, and then let out a loud wolf whistle to Anton’s departing back.

  No, Anton did not turn around but he did smile.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘I NEED SOMEONE to buddy this,’ Beth called, and Louise went over to the nurses’ station to look at the CTG tracing of one of Beth’s patients.

  The policy at The Royal was that only two experienced midwives could sign off on a tracing and so a buddy system was in place.

  It was way more than a cursory look Louise gave to the tracing. They discussed it for a few moments, going over the recordings of the contractions and foetal heart rate before Louise signed off.

  It was a busy morning and it sped by. At lunchtime, as Anton walked into the staffroom, had he had sunglasses then he would have put them on. There was a silver Christmas tree by the television and it was dressed in silver balls. There were silver stars hanging from the ceiling—really, there was silver everything hanging from every available space.

  ‘Have you been at the tinsel again?’ Anton said to Louise, who was eating a tuna salad.

  ‘I have. I just can’t help myself. I might have to go and speak with someone about my little tinsel problem—though I took up your suggestion and went with a theme in here!’

  ‘I cannot guess what it was.’

  Anton chose to sit well away from her and, for something to do, rather than listen to all the incessant gossip, he picked up a magazine.

  Oh, no!

  There she was and Louise was right—the underwear was divine.

  ‘Christmas Holly’ said the title and there a stunning Louise was in the stockings she’d had on last night but now he got the full effect—bra, stockings and suspenders. Anton turned the page to the Mistletoe range, and the shots, though very lovely and very tasteful, were so sexy that Anton felt his body responding, like some sad old man reading a porn magazine, and he hastily turned to the problem page, just not in time.

  Oh, God, he was thinking about swiping the magazine, especially when he glimpsed the Holly and the Ivy shots.

  ‘Ooooh.’ Louise looked over and saw what he was reading. ‘I’m in that one.’ She plucked it from his hands and knelt at the coffee table and turned to the section in the magazine as a little crowd gathered around.

  She was so unabashed by it, just totally at ease wit
h her body and its functions in a way that sort of fascinated Anton.

  ‘You’ve got a cleavage,’ Beth said, admiring the shot.

  ‘I know,’ Louise said. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’

  ‘But how?’

  Anton closed his eyes. These were women who spent most of their days dealing with breasts and vaginas and they chatted with absolute ease about such things, an ease Anton usually had too, just not when Miss Louise was around.

  ‘Well,’ Louise said as Anton stared at the news, ‘they take what little I have and sort of squeeze it together and then tape it—there’s a lot of scaffolding under that bra,’ Louise explained. ‘Then they pad the empty part and then they edit out my nipples.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘I wish they were real,’ Louise sighed.

  ‘Would you ever get them done?’ Beth asked.

  ‘No,’ Louise said, as Anton intently watched the weather report. ‘I did think about it one time but, no, I’ll stick with what I’ve been given, which admittedly isn’t much. Hopefully they’ll be massive when I get pregnant and then breastfeed.’

  ‘Anton!’ Brenda popped her head in to save the day. ‘I’ve got the husband of one of your patients on the phone. Twenty-eight weeks, back pain …’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Emily Linton.’

  ‘Merda.’ Anton cursed under his breath and then took the phone while trying to ignore Louise, who was now standing over him as Hugh brought him up to speed.

  ‘Okay,’ Anton said, as Louise hopped on the spot. ‘I’ll come down now and meet you at the maternity entrance.’

  ‘Back pain, some contractions,’ Anton said. ‘Her waters are intact …’ As Louise went to follow him out Anton shook his head. ‘Maybe Emily needs someone who is not close to her,’ Anton said.

  ‘Maybe she needs someone who is close to her,’ Louise retorted. ‘You’re not getting rid of me.’

  Anton nodded.

  ‘Brenda, can you let the paediatricians know?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They stood waiting for the car and Anton looked over. Louise was shivering in the weak winter sun and her teeth were chattering. ‘Emily isn’t the most straightforward person,’ Louise said. ‘She acts like she doesn’t care when, really, she does.’

  Anton nodded and watched as, even though she was terrified for her friend, Louise’s lips spread into a wide smile as the car pulled up.

  ‘Come on, trouble,’ Louise said, helping her friend into a wheelchair.

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Emily said, as Louise gave directions.

  ‘Hugh, go and park the car and meet us there.’

  Once Hugh was out of earshot, Emily let out a little of her fear. ‘It’s way too soon,’ Emily said. Her expression was grim but there were no tears.

  ‘Let’s just see where we are,’ Anton said.

  Though Anton would do his level best to make sure that the pregnancy remained intact, Emily was taken straight through to the delivery ward, just in case.

  ‘I had a bit of a backache last night,’ Emily admitted. ‘At first I thought it was from standing for so long yesterday. Then, late this morning, I thought I was getting Braxton-Hicks …’

  Louise was putting on a foetal monitor as Anton put in an IV line and took some bloods, and then, as Hugh arrived, Anton looked at the tracing. ‘The baby is looking very content,’ Anton said, and then he put a hand on Emily’s stomach as the monitor showed another contraction starting.

  ‘I’m only getting them occasionally,’ Emily said.

  But sometimes you only needed a few with a baby this small.

  ‘Emily,’ Anton said when the contraction had passed, ‘I am going to examine you and see where we are.’

  But Emily kept panicking, possibly because she didn’t want to know where they were, and nothing Hugh or Anton might say would reassure her.

  ‘I need you to try and relax,’ Anton said.

  ‘Oh, it’s so easy for them to say that when they come at you with a gloved hand!’ Louise chimed in, and Anton conceded Louise was right to be there because Emily let out a little laugh and she did relax just a touch.

  ‘How long are you here for?’ Emily asked Louise, because even though Louise had yesterday told her she was on an early today, clearly such conversations were the last thing on Emily’s mind at the moment and it was obvious that she wanted her friend to be here.

  ‘I’ve just come on duty,’ Louise lied, ‘so I’m afraid that you’re stuck with me for hours yet.’

  Anton examined Emily and Louise passed him a sterile speculum and he took some swabs to check for amniotic fluid and also some swabs to check for any infection.

  ‘You are in pre-term labour,’ Anton said. ‘You have some funnelling,’ Anton explained further. ‘Your cervix is a little dilated but if you think of a funnel …’ he showed the shape with his hands ‘… your cervix is opening from the top but we are going to give you medication that will hopefully be able to, if not halt things, at least delay them.’ He gave his orders to Louise and she started to prepare the drugs Anton had chosen. ‘This should taper off the contractions,’ he said as he hooked up the IV, ‘and these steroids will help the baby’s lungs mature in case it decides to be born. You shall get another dose of these in twenty-four hours.’

  Louise did everything she could to keep the atmosphere nice and calm but it was all very busy. The paediatricians came down and spoke with Anton. NICU was notified that there might be an imminent admission. Anton did an ultrasound and everything on there looked fine. Though the contractions were occasionally still coming, they started to weaken, though Emily had a lot of pain in her back, which was a considerable concern.

  ‘Content,’ Anton said again, but this time to the screen. ‘Stay in there, little one.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Then we have everything on hand to deal with that if your baby is born,’ Anton said. ‘But for now things are settling and what I need for you to do is to lie there and rest.’

  ‘I will,’ Emily said. ‘First, though, I need a wee.’

  ‘I’ll get you a bedpan!’ Louise said.

  ‘Please no.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Louise smiled. ‘Anton’s rules.’

  Anton smiled as he explained his rules. ‘Many say that it makes no difference. If the baby is going to be born then it shall be. Call me old-fashioned but I still prefer that you have complete bed rest, perhaps the occasional shower …’

  ‘Fine.’ Emily nodded, perhaps for the first time realising that she was going to be there for a while.

  Hugh and Anton waited outside as much laughter came from the room, mainly from Louise, but Emily actually joined in too as they attempted to get a sterile specimen and also to check for a urinary tract infection.

  Bedpans were not the easiest things to sit on.

  But then Emily stopped laughing. ‘Louise, I’m scared if I wee it will come out.’

  ‘You have to wee, Emily,’ Louise said, and gave her friend a cuddle. ‘And you have to poo and do all those things, but I’m right here.’

  It helped to hear that.

  ‘I’ve got such a bad feeling,’ Emily admitted, and Hugh gave a grim smile to Anton as outside they listened to Emily expressing her fears out loud. ‘I really do.’

  ‘Okay.’ Louise was practical. ‘How many women at twenty-eight weeks sit on that bed you’re on, having contractions, and say, “I’ve got a really good feeling”? How many?’ Louise asked.

  ‘None.’

  ‘I had a bad feeling last night,’ Louise admitted. ‘You can ask Anton, you can ask Rory, because I left five minutes after you and I came in early just to look at the board to see if you had been admitted, but I don’t have a bad feeling now.’

  ‘Honest?’

  ‘Promise,’ Louise said. ‘So have a wee.’

  ‘I’m going to give her a sedative,’ Anton said to Hugh.

  ‘Won’t that relax her uterus?’ Hugh ch
ecked, and then stopped himself because he trusted Anton.

  ‘I want her to sleep and I want to give her the best chance for those medications to really take hold,’ Anton said. ‘You saw that her blood pressure was high?’

  Hugh nodded—Emily’s raised blood pressure could simply be down to anxiety but could also be a sign that she had pre-eclampsia.

  ‘We’ll see if there’s any protein in her urine,’ Anton said. If she did that would be another unwelcome sign that things were not going well.

  Louise came out with the bedpan and urine sample, which would be sent to the lab.

  ‘Can you check for protein?’ Anton asked.

  Louise rolled her eyes at Hugh. ‘He thinks that because I’m blonde I’m thick,’ she said to a very blond Hugh, who smiled back. ‘Of course I’m going to check for protein!’

  ‘He’s blondist,’ Hugh joked, but then breathed out in relief when Louise called from the pan room.

  ‘No protein, no blood, no glucose—all normal, just some ketones.’

  ‘She hasn’t eaten since last night,’ Hugh said, which explained the ketones.

  ‘I’ve put dextrose up but right now the best thing she can do is to rest.’

  It was a very long afternoon and evening.

  Louise stayed close by Emily, while Anton delivered two babies but in between checked in on Emily.

  At eight, Louise sat and wrote up her notes. It felt strange to be writing about Emily and her baby. She peeled off the latest CTG recording and headed out.

  ‘Can you buddy this?’ Louise asked Siobhan, a nurse on labour and delivery this evening.

  ‘Sure.’

  They went through the tracing thoroughly, both taking their time and offering opinions before the two midwives signed off.

  ‘It’s looking a lot better than before,’ Siobhan said. ‘Let’s hope she keeps improving.’

  Around nine-thirty p.m. Anton walked into the womb-like atmosphere Louise had created. The curtains were closed and the room was in darkness and there was just the noise of the baby’s heartbeat from the CTG. Emily was asleep and so too was Hugh. Louise sat in a rocking chair, her feet up on a stool, reading a magazine with a clip-on light attached to it that she carried in her pocket for such times, while holding Emily’s hand. She let go of the magazine to give a thumb’s-up to Anton, and then she put her finger to her lips and shushed him as he walked over to look at the monitors—Louise loathed noisy doctors.